An Exchanging of Letters
by AlmostInsanity
Summary: Ever wonder what Sticky and Constance might say in a conversation shared by snail-mail? Here you can find out. Prepare for poetry, name-calling, and pure Sticky/Constance banter.
1. In which many things happen

The (Un)Official Letters of Sticky and Constance_  
A Sticky Washington/Constance Contraire FanFic_  
by Mezzanote

**_Disclaimer:_**_ I do not own Sticky, Constance, or the Mysterious Benedict Society and/or anything related to it. Aaaand, I make no profit from this story, as awesome as it would be if I did. Mrreeh._

Sticky's letters are in complete **bold.  
**Constance's letters are in complete _italics._

_

* * *

_

_Dear George Washington,  
_

_Today, I composed a new poem about your spectacles, but unfortunately and ironically I dropped it down a storm drain and I did not happen to have thirty seven spares hidden in my raincoat. This is quite a shame, you see, because the poem was quite lovely indeed. I produced a brilliant rhyme- 'glasses', because you have them, and 'molasses', because you're as slow as the gooey substance. Isn't it fantastic? I suppose I'll have to rewrite the whole thing, which I honestly don't want to do, but if you're really curious to know what it was like then maybe I'll consider it._

_Anyway, have you heard from Kate lately? I mailed a book of poems about Madge she asked for to her about a week ago, and still no response. How ignorant of her. Reynie hasn't sent me anything lately either, though that may be due to the fact that I have yet to reply to his last letter..._

_Oh! I nearly forgot to ask; Rhonda wants to know how you're doing in those quiz championship-things. Apparently, you were mentioned in the newspaper after your last win. I don't get why she wanted me to ask you about them, if she knew you had won, but I promised her I would anyway._

_I guess that's it for now. To answer your question, no, Mr. Benedict said he doesn't mind if you keep that particular copy- he has several more. Don't bother sending it back._

_Sincerely,_

_Constance Contraire._

**Dear Constance,  
**

**Though I am touched that you wrote a poem about me, it will be unnecessary to rewrite it. I can envision it already- "there once was a boy named Sticky, his bald head was quite icky, though it was filled with words of the tricky sort; he had his spectacles perched on his nose, which often turned as pink as a rose;..." (By the way, my head isn't icky!)**

**Yes, as a matter of fact I received a letter from Kate in the mail the same time I received yours, which was earlier this afternoon. I have yet to read what she says, though. Reynie sent me a letter two days ago, mentioning that you had not sent anything recently, so you had best get to writing back to him before he starts missing your fascinating poetry.**

**You can tell Rhonda that I've finished with my competitions for now. I finished in second place for the final round of the Stonetown 13th Annual "Are you a Genius?" Championship, and now I'm taking a temporary break. I should be returning in the spring though.**

**Tell Mr. Benedict I said thanks. "_The Complete Encyclopedia of Typewriters- Second Edition" _was fantastic. Quite riveting, indeed. You should read it sometime, Constance.**

**Also, how has school been for you? I know you aren't used to attending one in which other students are enrolled (in other words, something aside from Rhonda's private lessons), so I'm curious to know what it's been like. I remember when I used to go to school...**

**Reply soon, Miss Contraire.**

**-Sticky Washington**

_Sticky,_

_Hmm. His bald head was quite icky? I like that. Maybe I'll use it sometime. My original poem, however, was far better than that. For someone who knows a lot about poetry, you sure cant write it too well._

_Do you really expect me to read a book about typewriters? I mean, come on Sticky, I know you just recently discovered that I enjoy reading, but do you have to ruin it so soon?_

_As far as school goes, I hate it. The children are snobby and mean, the teachers are weird, and everything is so high up. I mean, really, who fills a building designed for children with two-story lockers and desks that are nearly twice my height? I feel that a strongly-worded poem is in order..._

Why School Should Not Exist  
_A poem by Constance Contraire_

School is full of people so uncool  
they make Sticky look like a fool (which he is)  
I wish I could fill it with water  
and make a giant swimming pool!

School is full of stupid rules  
all of which were made by mules  
who think they shine as bright as jewels  
though really, they're stubborn and stupid!

Truly, schools and rules are tools for fools,  
fools and mules in their giant swimming pool,  
all of which who go to school and perch upon their too-high stools,  
they say knowledge is the fuel  
for becoming brilliant.

Well what do they know?

_I will admit, it is a bit lengthy for my tastes, but I think the rhyming is good._

_Guess what? Number Two bought me an ice cream today for helping her with the dishes, so I'm going to send you the spoon that was with it. I think you'll find it most interesting, as someone has written the letter S on the handle for whatever reason. S for stupid, s for school, s for sweets (oh, candy...), ...s for Sticky! Enjoy._

_Don't call me Miss Contraire, George Washington. It makes me feel funny._

_Sincerely,_

_-Constance._

**Miss Contraire,**

**I feel sorry for you and your troublesome school, though there isn't much I can do about it. Ignoring the part about myself, your poem was quite admirable. You've gotten better with rhyming words. I don't think it was really that long. The longest poem ever written is called Beowulf, and it's much, MUCH longer. It tells a wonderful tale, you see, set in Scandinavia... there's this monster, Grendel, and he eats people and, well read about it if you like. I don't remember much about it because at the time, I wasn't so interested in it. It's been, oh, about... seven years since I read it last? Yes, that's about right. I would have been around your age, I believe. You are still six, aren't you? Right, that must be correct, because you don't turn svene until January. I nearly forgot.**

**The spoon you enclosed does in fact have an "S" printed on it. I wonder why.**

**Why can't I call you Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire?**

**I still wish you wouldn't call me George Washington.**

**-Sticky**

_George Washington,_

_I know, I'm getting better. I found several rhyming dictionaries in one of the holding rooms upstairs. They're so helpful, right George Washington?_

_Beowulf? Who would name a poem something like Beowulf? How do you pronounce that? And how long is the poem? Do tell me, George._

_Yes, I am still six for the next two months. Unfortunately. Why can't I just grow up already? I want to be the same age as you and Kate and Reynie. (who finally wrote back- Kate was pleased with her Madge book. Ask her about it sometime, Mr. Washington.)_

_Why can't I call you George Washington? It only seems fair since you keep calling me Miss Contraire._

_-Curious Constance_

**Miss Contraire,**

**Indeed, rhyming dictionaries are quite handy for poets and people who like to rhyme things... Miss Contraire.**

**BAY-wool-uf. Like as if it were to rhyme with 'Say wolf'. I do believe it is about 3182 lines long, but like I said, it's been a while. Any more questions, Miss Contraire?**

**Miss Contraire, you do realize that by the time you're fifteen, Reynie and I will be twenty-two, right? And Kate will be twenty-three. (Please, come now, Mr. Washington is my father ... Ha, I've always wanted to say that.)**

**You can't call me George Washington because I said so, Miss Contraire.**

**Regards,**

**Sticky**

_George Washington,_

_BAY-wool-uf. Hrm. What about the -eo? That isn't pronounced like -ay, right? Rendezvous, Beowulf, Illinois... I hate silence. And French, and Danes, and Illinoisans. GeorgeGeorgeGeorge._

_WHAT? What kind of sick twisted logic is that? Will I never be as old as you? Geeeeeorge Washiiiiington..._

_STOP SAYING THAT, GEORGE WASHINGTON!_

_...Now, where has she hidden the licorice?..._

_-Constance_

**Miss Contraire,**

**Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire, Miss Contraire...**

**How 'bout them apples?**

**-Sticky**

_George Washington,_

_George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington, George Washington,_

_Sixty nine times. I win._

_-Constance_

_P.S. I'm not doing this again. I have blisters on my hand._

**Constance,**

**Alright, fine! You win. What do you say to this: I wont call you Miss Contraire if you don't call me George Washington. Deal?**

**-Sticky**

_George Wa- I mean, Sticky,_

_Deal. Perhaps we should get Kate in on this so she'll stop calling me Connie Girl?..._

_-Constance_

**Constance,**

**Fantastic! I'll leave you to that, though. Good luck reasoning with her. She's almost as stubborn and simple-minded as you. No offense intended, of course...**

**-Sticky (P.S. This is my last piece of stationary, so it may be awhile before I can respond again.)  
**

_Sticky,_

_Thanks. Hrmph._

_(Kate won't stop calling me Connie-girl now. It's like a repeat of what we just went through, except I can't come up with a nickname for her. I might write a little Terza rima instead. What rhymes with Wetherall? ...Tether-ball?...)_

_Oh. Why can't you use regular paper like a normal person, Geor- Sorry._

_Write back, or else!_

_-Constance (not Connie-girl, not Miss Contraire; CONSTANCE!)

* * *

_**A/N:** Okay, so here we have a short exchange of letters and notes between the ever-amazing Constance and Sticky. I just wondered what they might talk about through such forms of communcation, and this is what I came up with. Sorry if you don't like it, but that's just your loss I suppose. If you do like it, however, thanks much.

Now, so I can know whether you actually _do_ like it or not (and so I can stop talking to myself), click the happy blue button down below and review, review, review!

(_Also, I was bored once upon a time and actually wrote that Terza rima about Miss Kate, so in case you're curious about it, I'll include it in later chapters. If there are any, that is._)

EDIT: (9/16/2010)  
Thanks much to everyone who helped kill my writers block, specifically **Kahlan the Dream Spirit** and **sliz225**.  
I promise the next installment will be up very soon, hopefully later today. Finally!

I also changed the ages of our entertaining twosome, for purposes revealed in the next chapter- Constance is about six/seven, and Sticky is now fifteen/sixteenish.  
I can picture Connie-Girl as a six year old, but Sticky, at fifteen... not so much. What do you guys think?


	2. In which other things happen

The (Un)Official Letters of Sticky and Constance

_or_

An Exchanging of Letters_  
A Sticky Washington/Constance Contraire FanFic_  
by Mezzanote

* * *

**A/N:** Alright, so I've decided that this is taking place about a year or two after the end of book three, so Constance and Sticky have matured a bit, though I'm trying my best to stay true to their original personalities. Nobody likes OOC's. (I went back and changed the ages Sticky asks about in the first chapter, fyi.) Anyway, yes, that also means that there will be spoilers here and there over the course of this story, so if you haven't read 'The Prisoner's Dilemma' then read this fanfiction at your own risk.

Oh, and before I forget- disclaimer time! I own nothing/I make no profit from this. If I did, would you see me here?... Well, yeah, probably, but that's beside the point.

* * *

**C.,**

**I'll send Kate a persuasive and opinionated letter if you think it will help, but if she shows up at my bedroom window in the middle of the night looking to hit me with something, it's on your conscience, Constance. (Have I rhymed?)**

**And about the stationary... I got more. I prefer it over paper because, honestly, it looks nicer. Don't you think?**

**Also, have you been practicing your Morse code?**

**-Sticky.**

_S.,_

_Sure, if you want, but if she DOES show up ready to pound you, I'm not going to stop her. Isn't it funny how my name rhymes with something I don't have much of?_

_Yes, you brilliant fool (I think that's a... whatchamacallit... um, ack-see-morons?) I can see you got more stationary. Duh. But... yes, I suppose it does look a bit more sophisticated (Mr. Benedict taught me that word.) than regular notebook paper. Maybe I should make Number Two buy me some when we go to the store on Tuesday._

_No, I haven't. I'd rather not relive those days, thanks much. Why?_

_-Constance._

**Conscience- oops, I mean, Constance,**

**Okay, forget it, I'm not saying anything to Kate. Too risky.**

**An oxymoron, you mean? Yeah, I suppose it would be. And yes, I'm glad you see my point on the stationary/paper situation. I would recommend getting a whole set, if Number Two does take you. Maybe sometime I could teach you how to write in calligraphy. Or maybe not. We'll see.**

**Well, I was just curious. Perhaps my next letter should be written in the code?... It would be good for you. Memorizing it can prove quire useful, you know. **

**-S. W. (That reminds me of S.Q., ha.)**

_S.W.,_

_Fine, 'fraidy cat. I'll send her a letter._

_Yeah, an oxymoron. We went shopping yesterday and I convinced -ahem, annoyed her until she gave in- her to let me find a set like you said. So I bought this one, with all the little lollipops on the sides. It suits me well, wouldn't you agree?_

_NO. No, no no no no no no. No code! It makes my head hurt to just THINK of decoding a whole letter sent in that horrid whatever-they-used-it-for system. And no 'calligraphy' either. That sounds like some sort of medical test people get at hospitals. I don't like hospitals. I don't like getting shots either, unless I get candy afterward, which I normally do._

_Oh, yeah, speaking of S.Q., he sends his regards. We saw him at the prison Mr. Curtain is being held in, when I went with Mr. Benedict a few days ago. I heard him whispering to Mr. Benedict about something, something really exciting, I think. He looked excited, at least, but that's not saying much. He's a pretty optimistic guy. Anyway, Mr. Benedict has been avoiding me lately. I think he's worried I'll poke into his head and try to find out what they were discussing, because I asked him about it a few times- but so far I've got nothing._

_I'll keep you updated._

_-C.C._

**C.C.,**

**I am not afraid, nor feline.**

**...Okay, maybe one of the two, but still...!**

**(And just to be clear, when I say one of the two I mean that I'm afraid, not a cat. I think I'm allergic to cats, anyway.)**

**What? No code, no calligraphy... hm, I suppose that does sound similar to a medical term. But it isn't one, as far as I know. Calligraphy is a form of writing that- never mind. You don't care anyways. **

**Oh yes, S.Q., speaking of him... I read your letter last night and fell asleep before responding (which, if it isn't obvious, I am now doing), and had a particularly strange dream in which S.Q. was dressed in a 'Barney, the Purple Dinosaur' costume and he and Mr. Curtain - who was walking normally, I might add - were dancing the tango, and, for the record, quite badly. I mean, really, their timing was off, and the steps... sorry. Anyway, it was a bit disturbing. And that was all that happened, just the two of them tango-ing around the blank dream-space for who knows how long. The Barney part was probably the strangest, but all-in-all I think it was quite odd.**

**Why I had such a dream is unbeknownst to me. And I'm not sure I'd like to know, for that matter.**

**-S.W.**

**P.S., you really should STAY OUT OF PEOPLE'S HEADS.**

**It's rude.**

_Sticky,_

_I wanted a cat for Christmas, but Rhonda didn't get me one. But I secretly think she's just messing with me, and putting it off until my birthday. Oh, that reminds me. MERRY CHRISTMAS STICKY WASHINGTON. I know it's a day late, and you probably wont get this for a few days still, but oh well. _

_And you're right, I don't care about your calligraphy-writing smarty pants self._

_S.Q. in a Barney the Purple Dinosaur suit? Oh, wow. That is both disturbing and funny, cause you know Barney the Purple Dinosaur... with his purple dinosaur-ish-ness... And the tango? With Mr. Curtain?... Barney the Purple Dinosaur! Ha!_

_Oh, one more thing Sticky. Who's Barney the Purple Dinosaur?_

_Confused Constance. _

_P.S., you really shouldn't call other people rude. _

_It's rude._

**Constance, **

**That's too bad. I like cats, aside from the way they make me itchy and sneezy and eye-watery. Maybe you're right about the birthday thing, or perhaps she's just afraid you'll lose it. Oh, and Merry Christmas to you as well. **

**Barney the Purple Dinosaur was... nevermind, I don't even know how to begin explaining it. I guess all I can really say is that he was a television show character. Before your time, I suppose.**

**-Sticky.**

**P.S., then you're rude by telling me that I'm rude for calling you rude.**

_Sticky,_

_Who's being rude now? I wouldn't lose it! I would protect it from the dangers of the outside world and feed it gumdrops until it puked. And then I would make Pencilla clean that up._

_I asked Mr. Benedict about Barney since you wouldn't tell me. He was a little bit confused, but he told me anyways. And then he sang that annoying mushy song._

_Guess what? I have a cold. It isn't fair. To have a cold is like... like swallowing mold! And of course, we're out of chicken soup, so I'm stuck with stupid alphabet soup, which tastes like rotten tomatoes. So, naturally, I used the letters to write a haiku instead of eating it._

_Alpha et soup is_

_mu h like a wet, rainy d y-_

_Tho h not like Re nie._

_I know it isn't perfect, but I'm practicing with writing a different haiku. This one was supposed to say "Alphabet soup is much like a wet rainy day- Though not like Reynie" but I ran out of letters in some places because I wound up eating a little bit. _

_Do you get it? You know... like rainy, Reynie?_

_~Constance._

_P.S., I am not rude!_

**Constance,**

**What a fascinating and slightly gross idea. I'm not sure if cats like gumdrops or not, but I suppose you could try. No chocolate though!**

**I can't exactly picture Mr. Benedict singing the "I Love You, You Love Me" song. That must have been an... interesting experience.**

**I'm sorry to hear about your cold, but with this letter you will see that I have sent your late-Christmas and early-birthday gifts. Surprise! And now, because I can't keep a good secret, I'm going to ruin the surprise. For Christmas, books! Now don't scoff. It's a typed and bound documentation of our adventures as the society. You're probably thinking I have nothing better to do with my time, and you're partially right... I just needed something to do over the summer, and since I already had the written versions of the story and I know how to bind books... yeah. Merry Christmas!**

**For your birthday, I wasn't sure what else to get you, so I sent a couple cans of chicken soup. Enjoy.**

**Also, how do you know what it's like to swallow mold? And yes, I got the pun in your haiku. Nice.**

**Sticky.**

**P.S., I hate to say this, but actually, you kind of are.**

_S._

_Too sleepy to write now, will send more la_

_Sorry about that, Sticky. I was going to start my response to your letter, then I fell asleep on my desk. And then I woke up again two hours later and wrote the sentence above... and fell asleep again, halfway through it. And then I woke up again a while after that and finally went to bed and slept in until almost noon the next morning. I love Saturdays. _

_Anyway, I ate your soup and flipped through the books. I can tell by the style that Kate did the pictures, but who is "Trenton Lee Stewart" and why does it say that he's the author? I thought you said you wrote them._

_For your Christmas present, this box contains a copy of that poetry war we had over breakfast however long ago that was. It took me forever to remember just exactly what we had said, but I think I recalled everything pretty accurately. Merry Christmas. Again._

_And the mold... well, I don't. But I imagine it would be similar to swallowing alphabet soup. _

_-Constance._

_P.S., I am APPALLED. (Another big word given to me by Mr. Benedict.)_

* * *

**A/N:** Hello again!

So, finally, after a heaving load of writers block and procrastination, here it is.. Chapter Two.

I apologize for the wait, for any confusing parts you may skip across, for the spelling and grammatical mistakes you will most likely find, and anything else.

The only thing that kept me from giving up on this in my time of need was your support, guys, so thanks much! Please, tell me what you think. whether it be in the form of a review, PM, subscription- anything! Feed me, Seymour!

* * *

Edit (3/19/11) - Waaah. I'm terribly sorry for the total lack of updates on this! Its horrible, I know. My excuse is this; sometime in December of last year, the laptop that contained the next few chapters of this story decided to die. Now I own a new laptop, however, the documents on my old one were sadly irretrievable. Oi. (This also means I lost my NaNoWriMo novel, countless drabbles, school papers, ect. Sob.) Since then, I've been busy with other things and really haven't had much time to write.  
Fear not though, my good friends, for I am now back in action and currently working on the next installments! And to make up for my absence, I've got a little surprise planned for all the fans of our beloved sesquipidalian coming in the next chapter. Heheh.

(P.S. My sincerest apologies to anyone who thought this update was a new chapter. Don't worry, the real thing will be here soon!)


End file.
